Schroedinger's Cat, Putatively

Brad's been on a philosophy kick lately. He's got me reading about Derrida. Then he went ahead and dropped an offhand reference tonight to Shroedinger's Cat. You lose me around the first turn on quantum physics, but this concept of quantum superposition seems appealing because of its many applications outside quantum theory.

Schroedinger said that you could demonstrate the concept of quantum superposition by thinking of a cat sealed in a steel box. (Don't worry, this is just a thought experiment.) There is a flask full of poison near the cat. If the flask shatters, the poison is released and the cat dies. If the flask does not shatter, the cat lives. But, Schroedinger asks, is there a state in which the cat is both alive and dead? Quantum mechanics would indicate that the states of alive-ness and dead-ness of the cat would coexist simultaneously. While a state of alive-ness slowly gives way to a state of dead-ness, there's a liminal time in between when both states are true.

Quantum mechanics is based on the theory that complex numbers called amplitudes can be assigned to events, the way we think of probabilities. While many have accepted this postulation, some have objected to the assumptions it leads to. This theory helps us predict the movements and behaviors of subatomic particles, but as we (and Einstein, famously) might object, life isn't like that; you're alive or you're dead. Right?

Yes, Facebook, I'm Still Married.

Willikers. Social media has caused some scandal among my friends and neighbors. Here's what happened. (No, A-Rod and Lenny Kravitz haven't broken up my marriage.)

When I was setting up my Facebook profile, I dutifully entered all my infos in the requisite fields. I checked the box "men" next to "interested in." I indicated where I went to school, and that I'm married. I paid no attention to the subsequent display of this data, and its broadcast to my Facebook pals, until someone pointed out to me that "Interested in Men" was showing up in my profile, which somehow signifies that I'm 'on the market.'

Cut to the other day, when I happened to review my Profile again, seeing now that I'd cut out all the other attributes, it just showed "married." Lest this particular factoid define me, I deleted that from the display. Apparently, this change was broadcast to all my Friends, with the requisite broken-heart icon, as "Lisa is no longer married."

Suppress your overwhelming disappointment, gentle reader, for I am not, as we say, on the market. Marrying Brad is the best thing I ever did. I just don't necessarily want to be defined by only that fact; rather, I want people to know about all of me - the Shark Week lovin', Journey singin', human-pyramid-formin' whole package.

Dystopic Exactitude

I find myself listening to Boston radio a lot these days. Sometimes my dial settles on 93.7, the local Mike station (which is a format in which a very large set of songs is played at random, without the strong presence of a DJ/local 'personality'). After concluding a set comprised of the Scorpions' "Rock You Like a Hurricane," Norah Jones' "Don't Know Why," and Hank Williams, Jr.'s "All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight," the station went to commercial with a pre-taped bumper. I realized, there's nobody at the wheel! I want someone to be driving this silly bus that is my listening experience. It's too disconnected, too sterile, to have a machine choosing what I hear next. I love to think of an underpaid, entry-level DJ trainee devilishly laughing at the absurd combination of music he's chosen for me, just me, to hear. I want the music I hear to reflect the choices of another human with whom I may share a common experience.